


Akuma

by DivineNoodles



Series: FanG Scream - Girls' Monster Party [1]
Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, Misaki and Kanon would do ANYTHING for each other ok, Sacrifice, Tragic Romance, Tragic yet Soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineNoodles/pseuds/DivineNoodles
Summary: Every fifty years, the people of Maru Village  sacrifice a maiden to the cave god of Mt. Babanbo to secure its blessings. As the next tribute, Kanon must come to terms with her impending fate... even as Misaki tries to dissuade her from it.





	Akuma

Life was so short.

The butterfly hung motionless in the air, entangled by invisible strings; its antennae twitched in place, searching hopelessly for a way to escape from the silvery webs refracted evening light, the spiraling threads extending in slender splendor between low-hung berry bushes above a moon-shaped pond. Along the threads slinked the web’s weaver, with a beady body and hair-thin legs out of sync as the insect crept down towards its meal. Within moments the spider began devouring the butterfly, its blue-and-black wings crunching under the force of the arachnid’s mandibles. It was horrifying. Morbid. Revolting.

And yet, Kanon couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.

She watched every last bite, down to the last snap and gulp. In her hunched over position, she must have looked like a helpless creature herself, a pillbug desperately searching for a place to hide away from the cruelties of the world. And hiding from such a minute, mundane tragedy would be simple. So why couldn’t she bring herself to do it?

She was still curled up tightly when she heard the snap of twigs on the footpath.

“Kanon?”

She lifted her chin up, spotting a familiar gray kimono through her waterlogged vision. “Misaki …?”

Noticing Kanon’s position, Misaki hurried over. “Hey, are you alright? You’re shaking… what happened?”

Kanon shrunk back, non-answering. She didn’t want to explain why she was quaking like a snail inside its shell. Animals ate other animals all the time, right? She was just weak – spineless and overly empathetic to an insect that had a brain the size of an atom. Of course, the feast reminded her of other things she had been dwelling upon…

“…Are you thinking about tomorrow?”

Kanon hesitantly shook her head. It wasn’t particularly convincing.

Misaki sighed. “Thought so. I don’t think you should be alone right now, honestly – you’d get lost in the woods, or maybe your own thoughts.”

In spite of her emotional state, Kanon giggled. “I… You’re probably right. That would happen, huh?”

“Yup, that’s the directionless Kanon I know,” said Misaki, smiling as she bent down with an extended hand. “Come on. The banquet will be starting soon.”

Kanon nodded. “R-Right.”

She grabbed a hold of Misaki’s hand – firm, yet warm – and pulled herself to her feet. The gray-clothed girl led her away from the small pond and into the bamboo thicket that lay between them and the village.

Leaves and twigs clung to the seat of Kanon’s hakama as she stepped down the well-trodden forest path, her sandaled feet impressing upon the damp earth with each step. And as she held firmly on to Misaki’s hand, the blue-haired shrine maiden looked off towards the west, where the sun had begun to fade sorrowfully into the earth’s shadow, a pale orange circle sinking into darkness –

The last sunset she’d ever see.

* * *

By the time they had returned to the gathering hall, the sky was tinted a pallid gray-blue. The last vestiges of the sun’s rays had disappeared behind the western mountain, but the late summer evening was still humid and warm. Kanon clutched Misaki’s hands until they ventured inside, where nearly every one of the hundred inhabitants of Maru Village sat at a table the length of a whale, captivatedly beholding the unfathomable array of food laid before them. Laughter, cheer, and good humor skipped through the air. Kanon’s anxiety sharpened.

Her nerves were alleviated when she made eye contact with Chisato, her fellow shrine maiden, who beckoned her with a relieved smile. “There you are. Where were you?”

Kanon tugged at her hair nervously. “U-Um…”

“Kanon just needed some fresh air, that’s all,” said Misaki. “Is that a problem?”

“Not in the slightest.” Chisato motioned towards the head of the table. “The elder’s been waiting.”

Misaki nodded to Kanon, encouraging her. With stilted steps, the lavender-eyed girl approached the village elder, who surveyed her with a cankerous expression.

“You’re late,” she grunted, tapping her walking stick disapprovingly against the polished floor.

“I-I’m sorry,” said Kanon, bowing profusely.

The elder scoffed. “Take your place. We can hardly begin without you.”

Kanon scuttled over to her spot at the table’s end, looking out over the congregation. The even sides of the table fanned out in her perspective, her vision dotted with the bright red circles of lanterns and candlelight. The aroma drifting from the mountain of food before her – fish, meat, and tofu stirred in every sauce and style she knew (and some she didn’t) – finally penetrated her stuffy nose. Chatter quieted to a low murmur. Dozens upon dozens of faces now watched her with curious expressions, muted yet mirthful. She suddenly felt the expectation of speaking, and how firmly that expectation wired her mouth shut. Her eyes darted to the floor, unable to comprehend the magnitude of her position.

Spotting her silence, the elder cleared her throat. “People of Maru Village… you all know why we are gathered here today.”

The atmosphere sobered. A hint of pensiveness crossed the faces of the villagers.

The elder’s eyes traced back to behind her shoulders – towards the direction of Mt. Babanbo, not even a kilometer to the west. She gripped her staff, wringing its wooden frame tightly around her palms, muttering an incantation under her breath. “The cave god stirs. It will awaken tomorrow, come the afternoon… no, the evening. And when it wakens, it will hunger.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Alas, how dearly I wish that it did not.”

Solemnity had fully settled in. The air felt so thick that Kanon struggled to breathe.

“But now is not the time to mourn,” said the elder, her face as stoic as ever. “To celebrate our lives, our security, our happiness – that is why we have come here today.” She motioned to Kanon. “For the sake of our chosen maiden… we eat, and drink, and live.”

The townspeople smiled softly. The oppressive aura had thinned. The mood, while still heavy, was of a more optimistic pitch.

The elder raised a cup. “To our protector – the cave god – and to our maiden.”

The villagers did the same.

Kanon’s arm reached out for her lacquered cup, spilling a few drops in her shaky grasp. She brought it close to her lips, and the stench of alcohol pervaded her nostrils – she was considered too young for spirits before, but this was her last chance to try them, so she was afforded an exception. Gagging her breath, she took a sip: the dribbles burned her throat all the way down, forcing a cough as the bitter booze sunk woozily into her stomach.

Chisato – one seat over – offered support, patting her gently on the back. “Not to your taste?”

Kanon shook her head vigorously.

Chisato giggled softly and offered her water. “Eat as much as you’d like. After all…”

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Her lips became stuck in a subdued frown, her gaze locked on some unseen fixture in the distance. Kanon understood. She was barely able to speak herself. In fact, despite the rich variety of smells and colors from the cornucopia of flavors before her, she didn’t have the slightest appetite. She could feel the synesthetic senses crawl across her skin – the din of conversation, the fragrance of spices, the sting of liquor. They skulked into her skull, draining her faculties until her head felt vacant and dizzy.

“Kanon? Are you okay?”

Her breath was growing shorter. Her blood was pumping slower. If she stayed any longer… “I-I-I need to step out for a moment.”

“Wait-”

Kanon ignored Chisato’s outstretched hand and the stern watch of the elder to rise to her feet, hurrying out the hall’s back door; several villagers took notice of her departure, but the flow of the evening remained lively in her wake, as Kanon stepped into the dim outdoors with her heart pounding in her ears, searching for a place to escape from the overload – so she stumbled several meters away from the gathering hall, in the direction of the vegetable fields, until she nearly collapsed before a row of shitake mushrooms, panting rapidly as tears and snot and sweat and other gunk coagulated in her throat and threatened to drown her in fear.

She told herself to fight it. She focused on the air entering and leaving her lungs, the steady pulse of her anxious chest – on the sensation of living.

…How much longer would she know that feeling?

After all, tomorrow, she would…

“…Are you okay?”

Misaki’s voice startled her again. Kanon stumbled backwards and onto her behind, falling right atop the rows of shitake with a squeal. Her own patheticness made her smile weakly. “If… If I said I was, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?”

Misaki sat down next to her, sighing. “Not really, no.”

Kanon resisted the urge to laugh.

“Chisato and the others are really worried, you know,” said Misaki, looking back towards the gathering hall.

“I…I should head back.”

Misaki put a hand on Kanon’s shoulder as she started to rise. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

It obviously wasn’t. But Kanon didn’t want her friends to worry about her – and they deserved to have one last night together, before… well, before tomorrow. She’d known the day would come for so long, and yet, now that it had… she still felt daunted.

“Please don’t feel bad,” said Misaki. “Everyone knows what you’re going through – well, I mean, er, I guess they don’t, but… they wanna make sure you’re okay, you know?”

Kanon nodded. She’d treasured all her friends at temple school and in the village. From the days spent playing around the lily ponds with Kokoro and Hagumi, to watching Aya and Eve’s ritual dances, to celebrating Kaoru and Chisato’s noh performances… every moment, every memory had been so precious. Even when she was younger – even when she didn’t yet know of her fate – she valued it all so dearly.

But life was so short.

Her fingers subconsciously came to brush against the nape of her neck – where the mark had appeared, so many years ago. Two four-pointed stars, touching at their horizontal tips. By its pink coloring and thin contouring, it could almost be mistaken for a suspiciously clean birthmark. But it was nothing so circumstantial – it was a chosen mark. A destiny. A brand for slaughter.

“…It’s not fair.”

Misaki’s voice was uncharacteristically strained. The raven-haired farmhand was usually of a restrained temperament, but now her expression was mournful – no, angry.

“Why does it have to be you?”

Kanon’s feelings flipped inside herself. She swallowed. “Th…That’s just the way it is.”

“Says who?” asked Misaki, crossing her arms atop her knees. “The villagers are off eating like a merry bunch of scoundrels while you’re facing your own mortality. You didn’t choose this. Why should you be the one?”

“We-We need to pay tribute to the cave god somehow, o-or else…” Stories flashed through Kanon’s head. “Th-The village will die.”

“Well, can’t we just move somewhere else?” asked Misaki. “What’s so great about this place in particular? Why do we need some deity’s protection?”

“I-It’s going to b-be hungry wh-when it wakes up, s-so…” Kanon’s hands clenched together. “If I don’t go to the cave, then it’ll come down to the village, and…”

“So what?” asked Misaki bitterly. “Am I supposed to just watch you go off into the dark?”

Kanon’s eyes fell to her knees. “It’s… It’s one life, for everyone else’s-”

“That’s no excuse for you to _die_!”

Kanon recoiled back, the force of Misaki’s voice reverberating in her eardrums.

The blue-eyed girl seemed to recognize her error, as her eyes drooped to a regretful frown. “I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I-It’s okay,” said Kanon. “You… You’re just concerned, right?”

“Of course I am,” said Misaki. “I mean, we’re… fr-friends, aren’t we?”

Stuttering? That was also unlike Misaki. Kanon giggled. “For the rest of my life.”

“Yeesh, that’s some dark humor, coming from you…” But Misaki couldn’t hide her smile. “Not so much a pure maiden now, are we?”

“I never thought I fit that label well, honestly,” said Kanon. “Sometimes I still wonder why I was chosen.” She laughed again, much more pitifully this time. “I guess I won’t have to wonder for much longer.”

Misaki didn’t say anything. Her face was flat and contemplative. She kept staring towards the distance, transfixed on an invisible horizon point. Kanon tried to meet her line of sight, looking for whatever she was focused on, but all she could see was bamboo and darkness.

“…Let’s run away.”

Kanon thought she had misheard. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean it,” said Misaki resolutely. “You don’t have to do this, Kanon. We can just pack up our things and sneak off tonight. Nobody will know. We’ll find somewhere else. You don’t have to worry about being a sacrifice or a tribute or anything – you can just _live_, and be happy, and not worry about fulfilling some role that you didn’t even choose for yourself, and…”

“Misaki,” Kanon interjected softly, “I appreciate the thought, but… but I can’t.”

“And why not?”

Kanon closed her eyes, concentrating on keeping herself together. “If… If I don’t sacrifice myself, they’ll just find someone else, won’t they? They’ll pick Aya, or Eve, or… somebody else. A-And I don’t want that. If it has to be someone… it should be me.”

Misaki looked crestfallen at her words. “And you… _want _that?”

“W-Well, it’s not as if I’m happy to do it,” Kanon admitted. “But… I don’t really have any family to speak of, and… and I’ve never really been good at anything. I’m clumsy, and shy, and hesitant, and a scaredy-cat… I’m not talented like you or Chisato.”

“Me?” Misaki scoffed. “I’m just a run-of-the-mill slacker. What talents do I have?”

“You have lots of good qualities!” Kanon insisted. “You’re really dutiful when it comes to making sure the village children stay in line and mind their manners. You do your chores quickly, and always help out whenever somebody get hurt or sick, and you can even use a bow…”

“Y-Yeah, well…” Even in the rapidly darkening light, Kanon could see Misaki blush. “I’m not that special. Not like you.”

Kanon’s cheeks met her hands. “Y…You think I’m special?”

“Y-Yeah,” said Misaki, her eyes tracking away. “You… always ask how I’m doing, and make sure I’m taking care of myself. You help me wrangle Kokoro and Hagumi when they’re being rowdy, and you lend a hand in the fields every day, and even when things seem dire you never give in, and the way you-”

Misaki cut herself off. Kanon could feel the steam emitting from their skin.

“A-Anyway, you shouldn’t be so willing to sacrifice yourself!” Misaki proclaimed. “I mean, lots of people would miss you. Chisato, Kokoro, Kaoru, Hagumi…” Her voice grew hushed. “Me.”

Kanon felt her heart ache. She understood how dearly she was loved, but that was exactly why she had to go through with it – to protect those she cherished.

“…Some guardian deity,” said Misaki, her eyes turned towards Mt. Babanbo. “What does it do besides sleep and wait for food? I’ve never seen it do any good. It’d be better if it wasn’t around.”

Kanon didn’t respond. Thinking any harder about the issue just made her want to bawl again.

Misaki took notice of her silence. “…Sorry. I’m tired and rambling.” With a groan, she rose to her feet. “Do you want any dinner?”

Kanon shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

Misaki nodded in understanding. “What do you want to do, then?”

Kanon prodded her fingers against each other. “I think… I’ll just go to bed early. I’ll probably have trouble sleeping, anyway…”

Misaki ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “Guess that’s a good idea. Need a hand getting home?”

“I should be- wah!”

Kanon attempted to stand up, but ended up tumbling back again.

Misaki bent back down, concerned. “What’s the matter?”

Kanon giggled pitifully. “Um… m-my legs fell asleep… I don’t think I can stand up for a minute.”

“Oh. Phew…” Misaki exhaled deeply. “You had me worried for a sec.”

“Th-Thanks for caring. I’m fine, though.”

A beat. And then, Misaki turned her head to the side, scratching her cheek. “Er… I can carry you, you know.”

Kanon’s little blue tuft of hair bounced in surprise. “C-Carry me?”

“I mean, only if you’d like.” Misaki’s mouth twisted into a variety of awkward shapes. “I, uh, don’t have to, if you… er, don’t want to… but I know how easily you get lost, and, um, I just c-care about you, you know…?”

Kanon blinked rapidly, her lips curling into a wide, squiggly smile. Misaki truly was the kindest person she knew. “I… I’d like that very much. Thank you.”

Misaki’s eyes widened before settling into a content gleam. “O-Okay.”

She bent down low with her back towards Kanon, arms outstretched so that the maiden-to-be could piggyback on without trouble. Kanon settled onto her back, feeling Misaki’s arms wrap firmly around Kanon’s legs as she hoisted her up. Without so much as a grunt, they began walking through the firefly-spotted fields to the shrine by the base of the mountain, where Kanon lived.

She rested her chin on Misaki’s collarbone. The brunette always had a particular scent about her: sage and strawberries, herbal and sweet, so much simpler than the dizzying array of aromas at the banquets – relaxing, nostalgic, comforting. Kanon could become lost in it.

“You’re lighter than I remember,” said Misaki dryly.

Kanon nestled her head into Misaki’s shoulder. “I think you’re just stronger now.”

Misaki smirked. “Guess swinging all those hoes and sickles around has helped me out, huh?”

“Mmhmm.” Kanon loosened her joints, her breath easying. It was the last night of her life, yet… she was content. To feel Misaki’s warm body beneath her own. To breathe in her scent. To feel her hair, so smooth and straight, brush against hers.

This was…

This was the last time Kanon was going to see her.

“Um… Misaki?”

“What is it?”

Kanon opened her mouth to say it: the words she had been meaning to for so long, longer than she had realized. But if she said them now… what would she accomplish? Making Misaki feel worse about her imminent demise?

“Kanon?”

Kanon rolled her head, facing into Misaki’s shoulder blades. “Just… don’t ever forget me, okay?”

Misaki’s expression wasn’t visible from her perch. But somehow, Kanon could still feel her tender gaze. “Of course. Not for the rest of my life.”

Kanon purred. “Good… I’m glad…”

And then, surrounded by a thousand lightning bugs, snuggled atop Misaki’s back – in spite of the dread, the anxiety, and all the million thoughts in her mind – Kanon drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

* * *

She awoke with the dawn.

She had been laid to rest in her futon, its feathery comforter covering her willowy figure. With a mild groan she sat up, the frazzled ends of her hair tangling into a bird’s nest. She blinked once. Twice. As she remembered what had happened the night before, regret settled in her heart:

Though… maybe it was for the best. She couldn’t imagine the pain she would cause Misaki if they were to have a tearful parting. Perhaps this quiet separation was actually the ideal… even if her friend’s smiling face lay frozen in her mind.

Kanon shook away her grievances. She had to prepare. With leaden feet she arose, trodding over to where the ceremonial _shiromuku _dress lay – thick-laden, pure white, embroidered with delicate lily patterns. She clothed herself first in the silver _kakeshita_ kimono, tying the obi tightly around her waist, before outfitting herself in the thick, brocaded garment that wrapped around her whole torso and trailed to the floor. Reaching for her hand mirror, she began applying makeup – pale foundation, thin mascara, and a deep crimson lipstick (with matching eyeshadow). After combing her hair thoroughly, she donned her _wataboshi _hood, wide and circular, drooping down to mask the sides of her solemn face. Finally, she picked up the last implement – a short sword, no longer than her torso, with which – when the time came – she was to take her own life. Better to fade quickly than be devoured alive.

Kanon looked over herself in the mirror. She seemed almost devoured by the paleness of her attire – only the red of her kimono’s tassel, her makeup, and the violet of her eyes showed any color. As if she were a ghost. How fitting.

Dazed, she unsheathed the blade, beholding its menacing glimmer in the filtered light. It was clean, polished – terrifying. She thought she would feel some sort of destiny by this point – a duty to oblige, a station to fulfill, a desire to protect. That she would accept her position, and the meaning in her life, with only the mildest of reservations.

But she couldn’t.

She could only stand there, frozen in thought, as one despaired wish cried out within:

_I don’t want to die._

Tears stung the corners of her eyelids.

_I… I d-don’t want to…_

Suddenly, the front door of their house surged open, and footsteps thundered down the hall. Before Kanon could fully process the sound, Chisato had thrust the door to her room open, her face stained with sweat and ecstasy.

“K-Kanon!” she cried out, running into her with a frenzied smile. “Kanon!”

“Ch-Chisato?” asked Kanon, timidly embracing Chisato’s heaving figure. “Wh-What’s going on?”

“I- You- It’s just-“ Chisato stopped, stepping back to collect herself. Kanon had never see her like this – the shrine maiden was usually so composed and considerate. Now she was pulling at her hair with manic glee. “It’s… it’s a miracle!”

The word thudded in Kanon’s bones. “A… miracle?”

“The…” Chisato took a deep breath. “When the elder woke up this morning, she couldn’t feel the cave god’s presence. It… It seems to have gone back to sleep!”

Kanon’s mouth hung agape. She looked over Chisato’s face, which was gradually bursting into a sob of relief, as the blonde miko heaved into Kanon’s shoulders.

“You… you don’t have to die!”

Emotions washed over Kanon in waves. Confusion, incredulity, amazement, joy, relief. It was overwhelming. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t laugh, couldn’t even emote properly – all she could manage was to sink her head into Chisato’s own torso, her brain pulsing with the astounding reality of the situation:

She would live.

_She would live!_

She couldn’t believe it. She had to be certain – even though she knew she could trust Chisato, she needed to hear it straight from the source before she could allow herself to hope again. “…Wh-Where is the elder?” she asked, lifting her head.

“By the mountain torii,” said Chisato, wiping her eyes. “Come – we’ll see her together.”

Kanon nodded, still unsure if she was dreaming as they left their house and ascended the hilly steps towards Mt. Babanbo’s gate. The long trail of her outfit made the ascent cumbersome, but she had no time to change – pinching herself as she walked to make certain that she was awake, they soon came upon the craggy staircase guarded by the pure red shrine gate. Sure enough, the elder stood in front – smiling, much to Kanon’s shock.

“Oh, Ms. Matsubara…” she crooned, patting Kanon’s shoulders affectionately. “I could hardly imagine such a fortuitous outcome.”

“I-Is it true, elder?” asked Kanon, breathless. “Did… Did the cave god fall back asleep?”

“Yes, as dreamily as if it had eaten a full meal,” said the elder. “I felt its spirit stir the night before, but upon my waking, it was as quiet as the dust.”

Kanon sank to her knees in disbelief. “Then… then I…”

“Yes, child,” said the elder, with great gravity. “You will yet live.”

A million hopes, dreams, and desires poured into her mind all at once. She wanted to dance and sing and scream and jump and bound and laugh and sob and… be_. _Just _be._

But more than anything… she needed to see someone.

With nary a word of farewell, she took off down the mountainside, her outfit rippling in the breeze.

“K-Kanon? Where are you going?!” called Chisato after her.

“I’m going to see Misaki!” Kanon cried out, prancing with every step.

She clutched her hood tight as she tore down the hillside, through the rice paddies and fields of livestock, across the stream to the village center, past farmers and houses and trading huts and oxen and meadows, her world becoming a green-and-tan blur as her heart sang with the realization that she would be able to tell Misaki what she had meant to the night before, without hesitation or reservation or consternation or… any other quality that would prevent her from spilling her thoughts out unabated.

“Misakiiiii! _Misakiiiiii!_” She called, her throat clogging with emotion as she skipped up to Misaki’s door.

She expected her friend to come out, wide-eyed and curious, only to stumble with delighted shock at the news. They would embrace. They would cry. They would laugh until there was nothing but boundless joy left in their tiny little hearts. They would eat and drink that night, and the next, and on for years and years until they grew old in each other’s company.

But no sounds came from within Misaki’s house.

Just the mild trill of birdsong and the far-off trickle of the river.

Kanon caught her breath. “Mi…Misaki? Are you there?”

No response.

With a jittering hand, she opened the door.

Misaki wasn’t one for extensive decoration, but the cookware and furniture was tidily arranged and polished as ever. Light flittered in through the back window as Kanon stepped inside, the trail of her kimono momentarily snagging on the entranceway. “Mi-Misaki?”

She noticed something on the table – a tanned piece of parchment, neatly folded along the center. Without a moment’s hesitation, she picked it up and scanned the simple calligraphy:

_Kanon_

_If you’re reading this, I won’t be around the village any more._

_You’re probably worried about me, but don’t go looking. I don’t want you to endanger yourself._

_Sorry that this is goodbye. I wish I could have said farewell to you in person._

_I just didn’t have the courage._

_Misaki_

She reread it.

Once. Twice.

And then, she dropped the letter from her hands and bolted from the house.

This was no graceful skipping through the knolls and farms – this was a desperate sprint, every last tendon in her legs screaming towards the mountain with all their might. The ends of her kimono had become stained with fresh grass and clumped dirt, floundering in the slipstream of her frantic dash. Folks who had cheerily regarded her moments before now watched in concern as she careened back the way she came, her expression as dire as her movements. Perspiration dripped down her skin, soaking the fabric and likely melting her cosmetics, but that was of no concern to her right now – only one thing was on her mind, and that was the cave atop Mt. Babanbo.

She feared the worst – the absolute worst. That there was nothing left of the girl but marrow and memory. That Kanon would find a bloodied mess of body parts that had once been her. That the cave god would awaken soon after all and devour every last one of them to the bones. The dread had descended like a storm cloud, fogging her vision and robbing her of her senses. But still she ran. Because she needed to see it with her own eyes.

She tore up the rolling green ridges and jagged white cliffs of the mountain, bolting past the torii without a hint of braking (Chisato and the elder were nowhere in sight), rushing up the thin mountain trail with the full force of her quads until she finally reached the cave mouth, round and pitch-black, yawning before her with fungus-encrusted rock. A thick rope and prayer slips barred entry with symbolic fortitude. Kanon wasted no time in scurrying under it.

As she stepped into the grotto, her rapid wheezes intaking more air than her piddly lungs could pump, she tasted that dreadful, lingering, iron-tinged stench:

Blood.

Her thoughts finally caught up with her. Not even an hour prior she had trembled of the notion of entering here. Even now her legs were like tofu, quivering at the thought of whatever monstrous deity lurked in the bowels of the earth before her. But she needed to know. To find her. It was impossible for her to still be alive, but… but she had to believe. Until the very end.

She grabbed hold of a lantern serendipitously situated next to the cave entrance, lighting it with a strike of flint. The orange glow lit her immediate surroundings, swallowed by the shadows any further out. With a gulp, she pressed onward.

The air was thick and soupy, reeking of mossy carrion – Kanon didn’t want to consider the source. Her steps echoed ploddingly in the tunnel, just audible enough to make her nervous: she dreaded the thought of alerting anything within to her presence. The walls – initially rough and uneven – began to gradually smoothen, becoming more obviously shaped by the hands of humans… or some other sentient creature. She wondered how old this place was; the very atmosphere seemed ancient.

Eventually, the natural cave walls turned to geometrical flatness. Upon surveying them, she noticed markings – faded and chipped, but still somewhat recognizable. Brushing her hands against the worn façade, she murmured the words aloud:

“The being dwells… demon and deity … savior and destroyer… it guards, and it hungers.”

Kanon’s gaze turned down the tunnel. Not much farther down she could make out a worn mural, depicting a number of human figures around… some sort of beast, with claws and fangs the size of a person. She read the accompanying description: “Hide of iron, teeth of daggers, eyes of onyx… w-with one swipe it fells ten men, and with one roar paralyzes a hundred more. No mortal hand could hope to slay such might. No… No divine hand has ever _dared_ to.”

She crept down the hall nervously. The stench was getting stronger. Her breath was catching in her throat. Suddenly, she caught a glimmer of reflective metal down the corridor – she rushed over to see several arrows scattered around the cave floor, bent and bloodied. Kanon mouthed Misaki’s name at the sight, and hurried onward.

Another set of inscriptions along the wall soon met her, accompanied by the same beast as before, locked against another creature of the same size. “Call to it, and it shall protect – the spirit that resides in the mountain guards all in its shadow. The god shields Maru, for Maru is its breadbasket. That is its covenant.”

As she finished muttering it, she noticed another noise, vague and distant – like wind passing through cave entrances – coming from within. She followed the source.

The tunnel eventually funneled into a vast cavern, invisible in the blackness. Within the limited illumination she could make out the walls, , their faded colors offering new scripture for her to read. Splashes of blood splattered the surroundings, fresh enough that they still shined ruby-red in the lanternlight. The windy noise was louder now, rhythmically sounding from near the center of the room, but Kanon couldn’t make out any openings for air to pass through. Near said center was a set of small stairs that led to an altar with a large, dark-red object lying atop it – curiosity beckoned her closer, but caution moaned to keep away.

She examined the wall markings again, whispering to herself: “In return for its protection, it demands sustenance – one serving every fifty suns. The life of a maiden, pure and untainted, in exchange for its blessings. We offer the maiden, for the maiden is the beast’s bread. That is our covenant.”

She circled the room, following the wall, her brow furrowing. “The beast shall feed. Prey becomes the demon. The demon becomes our god. The god safeguards us from the great destructions – war, famine, pestilence. The god not fed becomes a devil, casting these blights unto our land. Feed the god to protect Maru – no matter the tragedy. Such is the curse of Akuma.”

Her heart picked up its pace. A curse? She had never heard of any such thing before… was the place afflicted with some magic beyond her understanding? Her concern was growing – besides the odious signs of broken arrows, there was nothing of Misaki in sight. Nor was there the cave god; she’d have assumed that such a hulking beast would have noticed her by now – or at least, that _she’d _notice _it._

Kanon ended up at the massive rear wall, a vast, reddened portrait of the deity looming above her. Beneath it was a tunnel onward, where Kanon could very faintly make out the sunlight of the opposite side of the mountain far down. The final inscription lay emblazoned in faint text, which she deigned to read silently:

_Speak its name, and it shall awaken. In crisis, it is your dearest ally. In peace, you are its vaunted meal. Call for it only when the hands of humanity prove futile, lest you end up a slab of meat._

Below that was a single word, cracked and torn and withered and weathered from passing centuries. She squinted her eyes, her mouth moving to form the syllables upon the rock:

“Mish…el…?”

The word reverberated dully against the cavern walls.

The encroaching wind stuttered and groaned.

And only then did Kanon realize that the “wind” was not the wind at all –

It was the sound of breathing.

With stopped lungs, she turned. In the center of the room, the dark mass atop the altar was growing, shuddering as its ursine frame rose to encompass her entire vision. In the dim lanternlight shone the pointed ends of several arrows stuck in its body, a long, crimson-soaked naginata spinning from its back to clatter to the floor. With shuddering steps, it righted itself upon its fours, bristling and glowering, and Kanon saw them as it reared its bulging head – two black, beady eyes, glinting through oblivion.

The beast’s bellow shook the planet.

Pebbles and debris rained from the ceiling as the entire cave quaked in fear of its all-encompassing maw. The walls wavered and recoiled by the sheer force of its roar. And the white-clothed sacrifice stood there with cemented feet, her very soul shuddering at the sight, as a single desperate thought howled in her brain:

Run.

The cave god’s wail ceased, and it began lumbering towards her. Her petrified body would not move.

_Run._

The odor of carcasses and mold shrouded her being. Acrimonious bile gushed through her throat.

_Run!_

At last, she willed her frozen figure to move: with all the force her fearful mind could muster she whipped around and fled down the back corridor towards the speck of hopeful light so far in the distance. The world around her shook violently – whether by the sheer might of the beast’s stride or her own frantic vision, she couldn’t say – as the lantern jostled and jumped in her hands, its wayward light leaping across the cave walls and floor like a panicked grasshopper; she dared not look behind, but she could feel the tremors shoot up through her legs telling her that the cave god was barreling towards her at full speed. She had no capacity for thought; dread was the sole feeling sloshing through her veins as she sprinted away from the bounding demon, her eyes lasered in on the sliver of day that signaled safety before her, until the long, draggy ends of her dress finally became her undoing, as the train snagged on one of the cave’s many crevices and…

She tripped.

Her leg splayed out to catch herself, her entire body weight falling upon her right ankle with banging finality before she toppled to the dirt. Kanon, adrenaline still coursing through her arteries, pushed her sore body up with her scraggly arms, reaching for the lantern that had clattered out of her hands…

When, by instinct – and against judgment – she peered over her shoulder.

Just in time to see the beast descend upon her.

The cave god’s hulking body straddled above her as its jaw opened to reveal teeth the size of katanas. In the lanternlight, Kanon could now see the splatters of red that darkened its white abdomen; the fetid, serrated claws that scraped hollowly against the ground; venomous spittle dripping from its snarling lips onto the cold floor below. With stiffening fur and clenched muscles, the beast roared right into her frame, casting the wataboshi hood right off her head and into the distance, drowning her in the stench of death.

This was the end.

There was no escape.

Life was so short.

With a terrified scream, she curled into a tight ball and waited for the beast to rend the life from her flesh.

Kanon creaked open one eye.

There had been no flash of pain, no burst of organs. The lantern still lay by her side, illuminating the surroundings with a stagnant glow. The beast still towered above her, encroached by shadows – but it did not move. Its stance had slackened to rest on its hind legs, sitting with restrained breaths; its clenched jaw bearing no fangs or hunger. The booming growl had subsided, leaving only ragged gasps. In its eyes – the color of gleaming midnight – she saw… emotion. Sadness. Anger. Regret.

And in that moment, she sensed it – beneath the smell of blood and rot, of unclean fur and faded dirt, a familiar scent:

Sage and strawberries.

“Mi…saki…?”

The name escaped her mouth before her consciousness could fully process the notion. The creature before her turned its head away at the sound, as if denying it. But this only confirmed the truth.

“What…” Kanon began, her mind still reeling from the revelation. “What happened?”

The beast – Misaki – remained still. Kanon sat up, her head just a length lower than Misaki’s – only now did she realize just how weary the demon’s breath sounded, long and harrowed. Gingerly, Kanon reached out towards Misaki’s hide, grazing one of the blood-covered sections of fur that adorned her, only to feel raw, exposed flesh. Misaki flinched at the touch.

“You’re… You’re injured…” Kanon mumbled, her brain churning. “But how did…”

The inscription from earlier ran back through her head.

_The beast shall feed. Prey becomes the demon. The demon becomes our god._

_Such is the curse of Akuma._

As did Misaki’s words from the night before.

_“What does it do besides sleep and wait for food? I’ve never seen it do any good. It’d be better if it wasn’t around.”_

And everything slotted into place.

“You… you came here to k-kill the cave god – Mishel,” Kanon said, her eyes darting around to the arrows and lesions that had torn through Misaki’s body. “Didn’t you?”

Misaki remained motionless.

“But… but you l…lost.” Kanon pulled her hand back, its palm coated with a thick layer of scarlet. “And then, it… it ate… and somehow y-y-y-you…!”

Her own sobbing cut her off. She sank into Misaki’s new body, thick and wooly, as unbidden tears flowed down her cheeks. She clutched at the knitted fur with slender fingers, her chest rising and falling in tiny hiccups while her mind tried to process the tragedy that had occurred.

“It… It was supposed to be me!” Kanon wept. “I… _I was supposed to be the sacrifice! Not you! _So why…? Why did you have to do this, Misaki…?”

She looked up, meeting the eyes of the solemn beast before her. They weren’t the same quiet, blue-gray spheres that Kanon knew – but within them burned the same spirit, the same kindness. Another recollection bubbled through her mind:

_“I just care about you, you know?”_

She cried harder. She never wanted this. For Misaki to trade her fate for Kanon’s… it tore her right in two. Her dearest friend, robbed of life and happiness, to live as a monster – all because _she _lacked the courage to face her task, the will to fulfill her duty – she would never be able to live with the guilt.

And then, slowly, Misaki draped one of her frayed, furry arms over Kanon’s shoulder, in weak comfort. Even though she could no longer speak, Kanon somehow understood what she meant to say:

_“It’s not your fault. It never was.”_

Kanon brushed her body against Misaki’s paw, soft and fleshy, and felt her spirit waver even further. How could she be eased by such a sentiment? It made her want to turn back time even further. To stop her. To sacrifice herself. To not make this horrible mistake.

After several seconds in silence, Misaki pulled gently away from Kanon, shuddering back to all fours. With a weak grunt, she began the tremulous process of turning around, retreating back into the cave. To fulfill the role she had been consigned to.

“No…” Kanon murmured. “Misaki, please… don’t go…”

She tried to stand up, but a hiss of pain shot up her leg – she had sprained her ankle in the fall earlier. Despite her attempts to hobble over, she made little ground. Misaki glanced over her shoulder for but a moment before continuing into the darkness.

“Misaki! You can’t!”

The plodding figure of Mishel remained quiet. It trod onwards, its bloodied, battered body about to descend into the depths.

And in the midst of her anguish, her frustration, her hopelessness… the fear that she would never see her dearest friend ever again… Kanon cried out from the ends of her heart –

“Misaki, I… I love you!”

The demon that was once a girl stopped in her tracks. Her head rose, still facing the cavern, expression unreadable.

“I… I have f-for so l-long,” Kanon blubbered, her fists clenching damp earth. “I… I wanted to t-tell you, b…but if I did, and I had t-to die… you would be s-so devastated, I… I couldn’t… you didn’t deserve that burden… so I k-kept it all inside. S-So that I could see y-you off with a smile…”

Misaki’s breathing had grown quieter.

“The… the real reason I was afraid… why I d-didn’t want to go… was because of you. I wanted to be with you, e-every single day… till the fields… clean the shrine… run with the children… no matter how many years passed, y-y-you were there for me. E…Even when I kn-knew I was going to d-die… you… you saved me from hopelessness… you gave me a reason to live…!”

Misaki’s head slumped towards the ground.

“B-But now… what am I supposed to do? Just abandon you, after everything you’ve done for me? I can’t… I just _can’t! _Because I… _I…!” _

She couldn’t spit the words out a second time. She collapsed to the ground once more, drowning in her regrets, melting into her misgivings, wondering a thousand _what-ifs _that didn’t matter in the slightest because she couldn’t change the past, and now Misaki was stuck like this, and it was all her fault, and she would never be able to live knowing that, and if only she could have stopped this from happening, then Misaki would have been able to live a happy and peaceful life like she deserved, instead of the cursed existence she had been rewarded with… if only Kanon had the strength… if only…

Suddenly, she felt something wet nuzzle against her cheek.

Kanon lifted her head from the floor. Misaki’s head was hunched over, her moist nose prodding her gently. Within her beady eyes Kanon found that same gaze she always knew: awkward and fatigued, but warm and considerate. They didn’t speak – but Kanon got all that she needed from them. “Misaki…!”

She wrapped her arms around the beast’s head and embraced her, stroking Misaki’s neck considerately, holding on more tightly than she knew her lithe muscles could allow. She was filled with a thousand clashing emotions – like a hundred glass sculptures had all crashed into each other and left sparkling and jagged little pieces behind – yet through them all, relief surged strongest.

The reconciliation was broken by a gasp of pain. Misaki heaved heavily, her breath short and raspy. “Y-You’re injured,” said Kanon, moving closer. “Let me help.”

With no cloth around, she had to make due with her outfit. Fortunately, the thick, brocaded white – while it would be discolored – made for good bandaging. With some help from the short sword that lay snug at her hilt, She sliced off the ends of her dress and padded them gently against Misaki’s wounds, using the needle of her hair pin and the thread of the fabric to stitch the beast up.

“S-Sorry if it stings,” she said, applying a lily-embroidered patch onto Misaki’s belly. “I d-don’t have any water, so…”

Misaki didn’t seem to mind much. Within minutes, her gaping wounds had been sutured up, leaving patches of white adorning her bloodied body.

“I’m not sure if it’s good as new,” said Kanon, turning to sheathe the sword, “But – wha!”

She suddenly felt weightless. It took a moment to realize that Misaki had picked her up with her mouth by the scruff of her outfit.

“Huh…?”

With a strained heave, the bearlike girl-beast tossed Kanon onto her back, where she landed with a soft _fwump._ Offering an affection growl, Misaki began walking towards the cave exit. Kanon was pretty sure it was a thank you.

She fell forward, her exhausted frame sinking into the soft coat with little resistance. In spite of the maelstrom of feelings raging within, she smiled. “He…heheh… I just realized this is the second time you’ve carried me on your back recently…”

Misaki snorted. It almost sounded like a laugh.

They came to the cave mouth, roped off with sacred blessings just as the other side had been. Misaki attempted to poke an arm outside it, but appeared to come across some invisible barrier that prevented her from doing so – Kanon, however, could pass her fingers though the space just fine.

The two looked out over the ridge from behind the rope. Kilometers upon kilometers of rivers, valleys, and hills stretched before them, untainted by civilization or farmland. Light greens and blues shimmered in the late morning sun, the wind tickling the treetops as it skipped through the sky. Now that they were finally in good lighting, Kanon got a good look at Misaki’s new form for the first time.

“You know… you look really cute.”

Misaki grunted. Dismissive.

“I-I mean it!” Kanon professed, blushing. “You’ve got little round ears that peer out from your head, and your fur is so soft and thick and wide… it’s even a nice pink color. It suits you.”

Misaki made a strange sort of half-yawn. Kanon could sense she was embarrassed.

“B…But don’t worry,” said Kanon. “I’ll… I’ll find a way to fix this.”

Misaki’s head tilted up towards her in disbelief.

“I-It’s a curse, right?” asked Kanon. “Curses are meant to be broken. I’m a shrine maiden… if I just learn the kind of magic involved, then-”

Misaki shook her head, jostling Kanon around a little bit.

“I’m not just leaving you!” Kanon insisted. “You’d do the same for me if I were in your place, wouldn’t you?”

Misaki didn’t have a response. After all, she’d done _more _than that.

“I…I’m not afraid,” said Kanon. “I… I was supposed to die. To take on the form of Mishel. But you… you took my place. I won’t let you live as this… _animal_ for the rest of your life.”

Misaki’s head drooped again. Kanon could read her thoughts perfectly – _Ah jeez… I can’t stop you when you’ve got your mind set on something, can I?_

Kanon giggled. “You really are Misaki, huh?”

She exhaled in response. A resigned “yup” if there ever was one.

“It’s okay,” said Kanon, lying flat against Misaki’s back. “I don’t care what you look like. As long as you’re you… that’s fine with me.”

Misaki grunted, turning back around to travel through the cave – with Kanon’s ankle, it made sense to deposit her on the side closer to the village. As they soldiered through the darkness, Kanon’s scattered feelings coalesced:

“…You really did save my life.”

Misaki didn’t reply.

“I’ll... I’ll never forget that. This time…”

Kanon softly caressed Misaki’s back.

“This time, I’ll save yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I feel a lot of MisaKanon (including my own work) tends to be pretty Misaki-centric so I wanted to write something that focused more on Kanon for once. It's a pretty self-indulgent story but... aren't all fics...?  
I was originally planning this as a short oneshot before I got back to my long MisaKanon fic but lo and behold... 8k words... I JUST LOVE MY GIRLS OK  
The title is a bit of a stealth pun: "akuma" means demon, but also contains "kuma" which means "bear." If you want a good laugh, reread the story and imagine the cave god being normal-sized Michelle with her dopey grin and mascot proportions.  
Follow me on Twitter: @DivineNoodles


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